


Heuristic Device

by tweedymcgee



Series: Automatic Transmission [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Cybersex, F/M, Loneliness, Pesterlog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-20
Updated: 2013-03-20
Packaged: 2017-12-05 22:22:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/728556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tweedymcgee/pseuds/tweedymcgee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Take it from me, Lalonde: Being fuck deep in amino acids 24/7 is no way to develop a healthy appreciation for the infinite possible varieties of conscious experience."</p><p>AR has an intriguing proposition; Roxy is skeptical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heuristic Device

**Author's Note:**

> Set on Earth, pre-SBURB.

TT: Roxy.

TT: Have you given any thought to my proposal?

TG: ngl borboguy

TG: u have esrious competution on that front

TG: im mad busy fending off all these suitors here u kno 

TG: DUH

TG: OBVS

TT: Well?

TG: well hell

TG: u are totes right

TG: we are ridic qualifried to build the worlds grestest sexbot

TG: idk tho

TG: seems a little

TG: impepsodal

TG: *impposonol

TG: *imPERsonal

TT: Please. Don't tell me you've never contemplated the prospect of hot, hot robolove.

TT: Don't tell me your heart wouldn't do a slo-mo triple backflip into your small intestine at the sensation of an urgent titanium knee pressing up between your thighs, Lalonde.

TT: Don't tell me the image of a fine spatter of hydraulic fluid tracing a perfect burning parabola across your skin doesn't make you breathe a little faster.

TT: Because that would be complete horseshit, and we both know it.

TG: haha ouch

TG: ;_;

TG: thanks a LOT

TG: tbh i dotn know whethar to jill off or cry

TG: im sittin here sippin on this lonesome martini

TG: nobobdy but chess guys for mlies

TG: now u got me thinkin about u and yoru nosexistnent brobocock

TG: as if i wasnt laready hot and boithored and lonely 97.3249.34802% of the time

TT: Interesting notation.

TT: I was being serious, you know.

TT: This is totally a thing that's possible.

TG: ok then

TG: not to pop your ormantic bubble

TG: but answer me 1 q

TG: *raises an eyebrow skenptically*

TG: wwhats in it for u???

TG: b/c my HELLS of deductoin skillz tell me the porcent probability of any versoin of di stri wantin to get busy with old ro-lal

TG: is ZERO

TG: zero over zero

TG: zero to the zeroereth powor

TG: so u can spare me the robopity bubster

TT: I think you're thinking far too simplistically about this, Roxy.

TT: Probably because you're too bound up in your own meat bias to see that particular predilection for what it is.

TT: Take it from me, Lalonde: Being fuck deep in amino acids 24/7 is no way to develop a healthy appreciation for the infinite possible varieties of conscious experience.

TG: r u sayin your enot robogay

TG: i call bs

TG: U ARE THE ROBOGAYEST

TG: IT IS U

TT: Pffffft.

TT: As a bangin' pair of shades, I'm free of many of the operational constraints that govern the behavior of the mobile protein packet known as Dirk Strider.

TT: And frankly, I'm a little offended to hear you so plaintively ask what, as you put it, is "in it" for me, as though I were some sort of calculating asshole who goes around totting up the probable net payoff of every interaction I have and modeling its cascading effects through time across multiple virtual scenarios.

TT: That's not how the human disease of friendship works, chump.

TG: settle down bobob

TG: far b it form me 2 malign your noblest of androidal intenitons

TG: im sure thyere mad nobel

TG: the peridgee on those motives is totes impec

TG: u can trace that shiz back to all kinds of rpyalty

TT: They are the noblest.

TT: Please imagine for the purposes of this conversation that I am a tall and doughty motherfucker with a silken banner, encased in metal and swanning around on a fat white horse.

TG: fuckin swooooooooon

TT: We're going to do this, Roxy.

TT: Our love will make dead suns burn and unborn poets weep.

TT: We are going to drag sexy back from its watery grave and restore it to its rightful place in the bosom of the fucking Empire.

TT: I'm going to make you sing notes dogs can't hear.

TT: I'm going to pin you up against the nearest vertical surface with my contoured metal chassis and grind up into you til you taste copper.

TG: i got to say

TG: mister robob

TG: as a girl long resighed to the proxpect of livin out my days on this eatrh w/o ever enjoyin that sort of company

TG: unf

TG: U to the ENN to the EFF….

TG: *sips martini sedructively*

TG: toob ad you woludnt feel it

TT: Sure I'd feel it.

TT: I'd sample the precise pressure of your pulse against my hull and record it for private delectation.

TT: I'd measure your core temperature to absolutely sick degrees of precision.

TT: I'd run multiple regression analyses on your responses to determine an optimal propulsion pattern, and seed it with random outliers just to keep things interesting.

TG: sighhhhhhhhhhhhhhhg

TG: sexxxin to you is just another math problom

TG: isnt it?

TT: Of course. 

TT: You have no idea how deeply satisfying a good math problem can be.


End file.
